


Baking

by yeaka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-24 02:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco and Scorpius make a cake, and Neville wants in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Furrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Furrina/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I'm not making any money off this.
> 
> Gift for Vinib

“Why does it have to be counter-clockwise?”

Draco pauses for a minute, right after teaching his latest lesson. His larger hand is still around his son’s smaller one, moving the batter around in the bowl. Looking down at his son’s wide, grey eyes, Draco muses, “...I suppose it doesn’t. That’s just the way my godfather always taught me to do it. ...Although, he was a potions master...”

“I wish I’d known him,” Scorpius says, and he keeps stirring when Draco releases his hand. His stirs are more erratic though, and not uniform to one specific direction.

Draco says softly, “I wish you had too,” and picks up the recipe card (elegantly scrawled in his mother’s handwriting) for more instructions.

“Eggs are next,” Scorpius chirps, right as usual. Draco puts the list back down, kisses his son on the head, and strolls over to the fridge. Scorpius stays at the table, mixing the current ingredients together. Draco glances over his shoulder to ask, but Scorpius anticipates and offers, “Four of them.”

Draco smiles and closes the fridge door behind himself. It’s no wonder Scorpius gets Os on everything. Draco holds the eggs out for Scorpius to take and doesn’t bother fishing out his wand. Scorpius cracks each one effortlessly with zero mess. Where Draco uses magic, Scorpius uses genuine talent, and Draco resists the urge to litter Scorpius in more kisses and shower him with adoration and praise. Draco probably tells Scorpius ‘I love you’ more in one day than Lucius ever did in a year, and Draco feels it’s a definite improvement.

He’s just about to pick up the recipe card again when he hears footsteps heading to the kitchen, and instead, he glances up at the doorway. Neville appears in it a second later, looking disheveled and worn. “Sorry I’m late,” he breathes. “A first year got stuck in Devil’s Snare.”

Scorpius smiles and keeps stirring. “That’s alright. Daddy and I are making a special holiday cake.”

“Are you now?” Neville asks, halfway across the kitchen. Draco meets him on the other side of the table and gives Neville a minute to drape his robe over the nearest chair. He loosens his tie as Draco goes in for a quick kiss, which Neville returns with a warm smile.

“I can’t wait until Hogwarts,” Scorpius sighs. “I’ll take Herbology every year.”

“Give it a few more years,” Draco smiles, and then changes the subject to ask, “How was your day?” because he can’t bear the thought of his son leaving home and doesn’t want to discuss it.

Neville shrugs. “The usual. ...Can I help with the cooking?”

“Nope,” Scorpius says, to everyone’s surprise. Neville raises an eyebrow, and Scorpius shrugs apologetically. “Daddy says the recipe’s a Malfoy family secret.”

“Pfft,” Neville scoffs, chuckling a little. “I’m an honorary Malfoy.” And he looks at Draco for support.

Draco mirrors his son’s shrug, and he absolutely glows when Scorpius says, “When you give Daddy a ring, I’ll give you the recipe.”


	2. Chapter 2

The place they put the blanket down is a little ways from the cement walkway, safely nestled in the grass. It’s under a large oak tree, so the shade washes pleasantly over them. It’s a sunny, beautiful day, and the waves crash on the beach on the other side of the pathway, seagulls cawing in the distance.

Almost as soon as they sit down, Scorpius asks, “Can I go on the beach?”

Draco’s unpacking their picnic basket as he sighs, “You haven’t even eaten yet.”

“I’m not that hungry,” Scorpius says, refusing to sit.

Draco gives his son a pointed look and demands, “Have one sandwich, then you can go.”

Scorpius rolls his eyes, but he does sit down on the edge of the blanket. Draco tries not to smirk too widely about how well behaved his son is, and he passes over a plate and a sandwich. Malfoys don’t do plastic or paper dishes. Neville protested before they left, as usual, but Draco got his way, also as usual. There’s an extra box at the bottom of the basket he doesn’t remember putting in, and as he takes it out, he raises an eyebrow at Neville. “What’s this?”

“Chocolate,” Neville says simply, with a mouthful of bread and eggs. “It’s for after.”

Draco says, “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” and puts the box back down. It’s thin but large, purple and brown. It’s tied with an elegant gold bow, and frankly it looks a bit more expensive than the usual treats Neville brings. But Draco doesn’t protest. He takes a bite out of his own sandwich, enjoying the warm summer air.

While they aren’t in a strictly wizarding community, it isn’t completely blocked off to muggles either. So they’re all foregoing robes—it’s too hot for them anyway. Draco’s black dress pants and green button-up match Scorpius’ colours, except he’s in a t-shirt. Neville’s also in a t-shirt, but it’s blue, a shade lighter than his jeans. The fabric stretches nicely over his pecs, and Draco tries not to stare as he eats. As much fun as it was to ravish Neville in the public washrooms last picnic, Draco’s parents were there to watch Scorpius that time. This time, when Scorpius stands up, Draco says evenly, “Don’t go too far—make sure we can see you.”

Scorpius says, “Okay,” and, “Thanks for the sandwich.” Then he runs off across the path, bolting through the sand. Draco watches him go with a warm smile, loving the way he stops just before the water and immediately collapses to start sculpting. Scorpius isn’t old enough to use a wand yet, but there must be magic in his fingers, because his sandcastles are always unbelievably elaborate and inexplicably indestructible. The camera has already been unpacked—Draco never wants to miss a moment.

“He’s so cute,” Neville says as he watches Scorpius begin to form the base. He’s eating around the crusts.

Draco says, “Yeah,” and then, “Eat your crusts.”

Neville rolls his eyes but listens. He gets a bit of egg salad on the corner of his mouth, and Draco, unable to resist, leans over to lick it off. Neville turns to meet him immediately, pressing forward for a light kiss. Draco struggles to keep it chaste. Neville’s light stubble tickles his chin, and Neville smells thick and earthy. He’s so handsome Draco can barely stand it sometimes. He brings a hand up to cup Draco’s cheek, and Draco shivers into the caress, eyes flickering open as he moves back a centimeter.

“What are you trying to do to me?” Neville laughs, but his voice is low and rumbling—they’re still so close. “You keep going like that and I’m going to scar that poor kid for life by fucking his father senseless in the middle of a public park.”

“Isn’t that why people bring blankets on picnics?” Draco teases, and he can’t help but raise an eyebrow challengingly. Neville laughs and kisses him again, pulling back again too quickly.

Draco settles back down apart, but he keeps his legs close enough that their knees brush. It’s a family day, but he still can’t help squeezing in little intimacies wherever he can. They’ve been together for so long that Neville _is_ family, but that spark has never left them. Neville’s still the strong, warm person he was when they first started, and he’s no less wonderful or sexy now. It’s a cliché, but Draco honestly thinks he loves Neville more every day. The way Neville smiles fondly at Scorpius only solidifies that. “What’s he doing now?” Neville asks, head tilting.

Draco follows Neville’s gaze to where Scorpius is playing in the water, seeming to search around in it. “Perhaps he’s catching fish?” Draco muses. He wouldn’t put it passed his son—Scorpius has incredible reflexes. He’s sure to be a Seeker when he goes to Hogwarts, and he could probably catch a fish with his bare hands.

Neville asks, “Do you wanna go down there?”

Draco considers it and decides, “Not yet. I’m feeling lazy.” And it’s too hot to be fully in the sun yet, and he still wants more food. He gets himself another sandwich as Neville smiles at him. “You can go if you like.”

Neville shakes his head and leans over to peck Draco’s cheek. “No, I want to stay with you.”

Draco just smiles, because his mouth is full. He packed a variety of sandwiches—this one’s peanut butter and jelly. Simple, but one of Scorpius’ favourites. Scorpius comes strolling back across the grass with his legs wet up to his knees, shorts bunched around his thighs. He’s clutching a murky-looking bottle in his hands. His sandals are soaking as he sits just off the blanket, but Draco says, “You can sit on it, we put a drying spell on already.”

Scorpius chirps, “Okay,” and shuffles forward. Then he holds out the bottle before Draco can scold him for picking up garbage and says, “I found this in the water. There’s a note inside—can I read it?”

“Scorpius,” Draco chides, “You don’t know who that’s from or who it’s for.”

“Exactly, and I’m curious.” He looks pleadingly at Neville for support.

Neville smiles at Draco and says, “I don’t see the harm in looking at it—it’s just a note.” Then he reaches across the blanket, grabbing the chocolate box. “Anybody want dessert?”

Draco nods for chocolate and then looks at Neville skeptically. But then he looks at Scorpius’ pleading eyes, and it’s hard to say no. Eventually, he has to sigh and concede, “Alright.”

Scorpius smiles excitedly and pulls the cork out of the top. The glass is tinted green, and the paper inside is rolled and neatly tied. When Scorpius drops it into his hand, it tumbles into two separate scrolls, both completely dry, and he unwraps the first one with small, steady fingers. He quickly reads it over, and his grey eyes widen. Then he grabs the next one, reading it too.

Immediately, Draco asks, “What?” He’s unable to keep the frown off his face or the worry out of his voice, even though Scorpius’ reaction isn’t exactly bad. Neville’s pulling the lid off the box next to him, but Draco’s too preoccupied to have any dessert right now.

Scorpius breaks out into a warm smile, and he thrusts the second piece of paper suddenly into Draco’s lap, atop the box of chocolates Neville simultaneously places there. “It’s for you, Daddy!” Draco’s eyebrows knit together. Who would send him a note in a bottle?

But a smile curves across his lips as soon as he picks it up; he recognizes the messy, black scrawl. His heart stops as he digests the words.

The note reads simply: _‘Draco Malfoy, will you marry me?’_

“I say yes to mine,” Scorpius says, and he leans over to hug Neville warmly, while Draco struggles to breathe. “You can be my other dad.”

Draco can’t let go of the paper, but Neville reaches over to steadily pull his hands aside, revealing the chocolate box in his lap. Amongst the detailed, gorgeous balls of expensive-looking treats is nestled a silver, snake-shaped ring, with shining, emerald eyes. Draco’s favourite colours. His hands are shaking as he picks it up, cold and solid in his hands.

“I love you,” Neville says in the background, and his voice sounds nervous. Draco is turning over the ring, examining it from every angle. It’s intricate and beautiful, clearly custom made and divine. “I’ve loved you for a long time, and you’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. You make me so happy, Draco. ...Will you marry me?”

Draco looks up through foggy vision—his eyes are tearing up.

Scorpius leans over and whispers, “Daddy, you’re supposed to say yes.” It breaks up the tense moment, and Draco can’t help but laugh. The smile that comes over him splits his whole face, enough to make his jaw hurt.

He opens his mouth but doesn’t have any air to release. It takes him a minute to mumbles, “Yes.” Then, again, “Yes, Merlin, Neville, yes.” He lunges suddenly forward, knocking the box of chocolate over, and wraps his arms tightly around Neville’s neck. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Neville grins in his ear, “I love you.”

Draco laughs another, _“Yes.”_


	3. Chapter 3

When they get back home, Neville puts away the picnic basket, and Draco gets Scorpius ready for his weekend with his grandparents. Draco combs down Scorpius’ hair and tugs his clothes into place and tries desperately not to cry.

Scorpius says, “Congratulations,” again, in front of the fireplace. Neville comes into the living room and hugs him goodbye, and Scorpius mumbles into the hug, “You didn’t have to ask me—I think of you like my second dad, anyway.”

Draco briefly covers his face with his hands—he can’t take it. When he drops them a moment later, Neville’s beaming, and he kisses Scorpius warmly on the forehead. “I’m the luckiest man in the world. You’re the best son a stepparent could ask for.”

“And Daddy’s the best parent,” Scorpius chirps, “But you’re a close second.” Neville laughs and ruffles his hair, and Draco’s too overwhelmed to complain about having it messed up after he so meticulously brushed it.

Draco can’t do much more than mumble, “I love you,” as he hugs Scorpius again.

“I love you too,” Scorpius says, and then he and Neville share a similar exchange.

And then he’s throwing Floo powder into the fire, and the next second, he’s whisked away in green flames. Draco normally goes with him and comes back, but Draco can’t today.

He has to have some alone time with Neville, and when he turns around, there’s a fire in his boyf— _fiance’s_ eyes. Draco doesn’t move and Neville stalks towards him, looking too delicious for words.

When he reaches Draco, Neville’s arms wrap around him, tilting Draco back in a kiss. Draco’s hands slide to Neville’s back and up around his shoulders, holding tight. This time, Neville’s the one to deepen the kiss, and Draco immediately lets him. He parts his lips and darts his tongue out to meet Neville’s, and he tilts his head and they battle like that, bodies pressed flush together. He can feel Neville’s stomach muscles against his own taut waist through their shirts, and he can feel the hint of stubble at Neville’s chin, and he explores Neville’s chocolate hair with his fingers. Draco would love Neville no matter what he looked like, but the fact that he’s grown into a mouth-watering, gorgeous Adonis is certainly nice. When Neville starts walking them backwards, Draco lets himself be maneuvered, until the back of his legs hits the sofa. He topples over it and Neville goes with him, pressing him down and climbing atop him. Neville scoops up Draco’s legs and shifts them onto the sofa, shifting everything. Draco lets himself be put in place.

He only protests when Neville sits up too high to do it, and then Draco heavily tugs him back down. They kiss again, and Neville starts grinding Draco into the cushions, and Draco mewls into the kiss and wraps his legs around Neville’s hips. He can feel the growing bulge in Neville’s trousers, and his own crotch isn’t far behind. When Neville shifts to start trailing kisses down Draco’s jaw, he breathes, “I’m so glad you said yes...”

Draco doesn’t hesitate to moan, “How could I say anything else?” They bicker often over small things, still a Slytherin and Gryffindor, but not over the big things that matter. Like family: the most important thing to a Malfoy. His fingers run across Neville’s strong back, dipping down the line of his spine to rest at the hem of his shirt. When Draco starts to roll it up, Neville helpfully lifts his arms, and Draco tugs the whole thing over his head, tossing it aside. Neville returns immediately to kissing him, his own fingers moving to Draco’s trousers. He starts to unbuckle Draco’s belt, and Draco mumbles between kisses, “Should we... do this... in the living room...?”

Neville stops long enough to hiss, “I want to fuck you on every surface in this house,” and then promptly returns to fiercely making out. Draco whimpers as his belt’s roughly removed from his trousers, and he moves to try and undo Neville’s fly. He doesn’t have it in him to protest anymore than that. He has so much emotion inside him right now, and if he doesn’t let it out, he’ll burst. He wants to be as close to Neville as possible, and he grins when Neville pulls back to mutter, “I’m sorry. Make love to you. Should be make love to you.” He kisses Draco hard. “’Should be romantic.”

Draco pulls out Neville’s heavy cock in his excited fingers and drawls, “No, I want you to fuck me.” He smirks at Neville’s lust-filled smile, and they meet in the middle for another kiss.


End file.
